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June 29, 2007

Secrefugly

Peter Saaaaaaaaaarsgaaaaaaaaaaaurd is clearly thinking, "don't ask me about what she's wearing. Don't asking me about what she's wearing. Don't ask me about what she's wearing. God, I hate standing here. Are my pants a hair too short?"

Maggie, Maggie. Leaving aside the issue that your dress is sporting a mock turtleneck(!) and seems straight out of one of those Lifetime movies from the 80s where Meredith Baxter Birney fights sexual harassment in a series of outfits with floppy little lady-ties, what's with the hair? I get that it's probably hot in New York right now, but must you schlep out of the house to these things looking like you just jumped out of the shower and are running down to the Post Office before it closes? You know, even when you don't look actively unhappy, you generally seem so brimming with disdain for these sorts of events. If you hate gussying up and attending things, here's a suggestion: don't. And if you have to go to them for work, maybe pretend you don't hate every single second of it, just so people don't think you're sort of a cranky sourpuss. It's called ACTING, and you're usually much, much better at it.

Posted by Jessica at 09:58 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink

March 02, 2007

Independent Spirit Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Maggie Gyllenhaal, AGAIN

You know how sometimes you'll find yourself walking down a tree-lined street, wearing a spectacular trench coat and adorable shoes, carrying one paper shopping bag, out of the top of which pokes a baguette and some unidentifiable leafy greens, and everything is going beautifully -- there's music in the air, and your hair looks awesome -- until you accidentally collide with a devilishly handsome but infuriating eligible young man and your groceries go everywhere and he doesn't really even seem to care, and after that you two run into each other all over your well-lit town and you really, really hate him until the fateful morning when you wake up (wearing the cutest jammies, which just happen to coordinate perfectly with your bedroom) and realize that, actually, you love him? I think that's what's happened to me and Maggie Gyllenhaal this week. I loved her Oscar dress, and now I love what she wore to the Independent Spirit Awards:

It's quite simple, for sure, but it's crazy-flattering on her, and the buttons and detail at the waist, as well as the texture on the fabric, keep it from being too boring. I've had this photo in my queue for a couple of days, thinking I wasn't going to post it because the dress wasn't enough of a stand-out but then I realized that I kept coming back to it to look at it. There's something about it that I find very alluring, and I kind of want it.  It and I are destined for a clinch at sunset while a popular single from a British band that employs strings to great romantic effect swells in the background. I can't wait!

Posted by Jessica at 02:34 PM in Maggie Gyllenhaal, Misc. Awards Shows, Well Played | Permalink

February 27, 2007

Oscar Fug Carpet: Well Played, Maggie Gyllenhaal

Let it never be said that we are unable to change our tune if the song we've been singing goes off key. In this case, the old saw "Maggie Gyllenhaal, What The Hell Are You Wearing?" has suddenly gone totally off the rails:

That is awesome, and I love it.  All her everything is in the right place and she looks appropriately formal without looking predictable or prom-y. The navy and the black are chic, but she still -- refreshingly -- looks sort of  unusual without giving the impression that she picked up her outfit at the Hipster One-Stop Irony-In-Dressing Shoppe.  Also, Peter Saarsgaaaaaaaarrrddd is rocking his best  "Sure, There's Something About Me That's Mildly Threatening, But You Think It's Hot, Don't You?"  Which is an excellent accessory, I think.

Posted by Jessica at 07:09 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal, Oscars, Well Played | Permalink

August 04, 2006

Goodbye Fug: Maggie Gyllenhaal

We've said some mean stuff about Maggie Gyllenhaal's wardrobe in the past. In fact, she once wore a gray mechanic's jumpsuit that still causes me to wake up in a cold sweat.I may never recover from the horror of the jumpsuit.

But hold onto your hats and glasses, because I'm about to say something nice: I LOVE what she's wearing to the World Trade Center premiere.

In fact, I like it so much, I'm not even going to get into how tired I am of her wearing this sort of Heidi on the Mountain, Crossed Braids On the Top of Her Head hairdo. I know she's pregnant, and it's hot out, but there are certainly coiffures which are as cool -- and probably easier -- than this one, but which also have the added benefit of not making you look as though you're campaigning for the role of Swiss Miss.

But that is a nitpick! Because I love, love this dress on her. Personally, I am currently on a big navy blue kick, and the color is gorgeous with her complexion. The cut is tremendously flattering, from the sleeves to the hem, and the neckline makes the most of her knocked-up boobs. Her make-up is chic, and clean, and her shoes are adorable. She looks just lovely. Is it simple? Absolutely. Is that a bad thing? Not in this case. In fact, it's classy. So well done, Maggie.

And, if I may say so, there's something about the fact that Peter Sarsgaard (on whom I have a secret crush) is giving the camera finger guns that just delights me.  His finger guns, plus her subtle "here we go again with the finger guns" smirk, make this the sort of celebrity photo I love, because it's one where you actually see the celebrities acting like real people, people you might you know. Because everyone's had the boyfriend who loved sarcastic finger guns, and almost everyone has acted perturbed by this display of juvenalia whilst secretly also finding finger guns hilarious.

So this entire package pleases me. It pleases me very much. There is much hope for the Sarsenhaalette after all.

Posted by Jessica at 09:56 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal, Well Played | Permalink

January 27, 2006

Fuggie, Fuggie, Fuggie...

Maggie Gyllenhaal fascinates me.

No matter what she's wearing -- gown, jumpsuit, fur-trimmed bathrobe with unnecessarily complicated belting system and dowdy tights -- she always looks from the neck up like she's just come from the gym. What exactly is she trying to achieve with that hair?

Posted by Heather at 10:50 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink

December 08, 2005

Happy Fuggings

Not to be outdone by former pal and current archrival Kirsten Dunst, Maggie Gyllenhaal proves that her breasts can sag twice as far and her dress can look twice as much like an ill-fitting sack- -- and not only that, but she will raise La Dunst thick shiny tights worn with open-toed shoes, so TAKE THAT, BROTHER-STEALER.

Posted by Heather at 12:46 PM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink

October 05, 2004

Gyllenhaal Fugs Again

What is this? Her lower half looks lumpier than oatmeal. It's like the top half belongs to an entirely different dress, which she is still wearing underneath but which got a stain on it, so she grabbed a piece of satin and a nearby ribbon and made herself a second skirt. And then she slouched for good measure, making a bad choice of waistline even worse. Way to go, Maggie -- it's nice to see you carrying the fug torch.

Posted by Heather at 10:23 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 18, 2004

The Chronicles of Fuggie

Early in 2004, Maggie Gyllenhaal proved again that she should not be in control of her own clothing (or choice of stylist). There needs to be some kind of international Council of Fug Identification, Containment, and Treatment, and Maggie's wardrobe would be submitted for a thorough decontamination.

First rule of The Sag: Don't accentuate The Sag. WEAR A BRA.That might actually be the subtitle of this site, if enough women persist in wearing dresses that let them droop. Maggie really, really needs to arrange the girls in such a way that they don't look like tears that her neck has wept.

Are those... pockets? And an elastic prairie-style sleeve? That's just smurfy.

But it might be better than I Sent My Outfit To A Bad Dry Cleaner And The Whole Thing Shrank:

She looks like a genie who got mauled in the bottle.

Finally, while we're here, it never hurts to make the following comparison, even though Kirsten "dumped" Jake (read: was allegedly dumped by him because he got sick of the blizzard that was constantly raging in her nostrils). So I present to you...

Jake's ex:

Jake's sister:

Am I noting their resemblance as a quiet way of wondering whether Jake is trying to find a woman who looks exactly like his sister, but with whom he can have the sex and the babies without being considered a social freak/outcast whose children have five eyes and no kidneys?

Not at all! Not at all. That's a different kind of blog and I can't believe you would think I was going there.

Posted by Heather at 03:23 PM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 16, 2004

Oh, What A Fugliful Morning!

Fuggie Gyllenhall must be stopped.

She looks like she's playing the role of Aunt Eller in a poorly costumed high school production of Oklahoma!. Except she left her boots in the back of her boyfriend's Pinto, and she had to wear this pair of espadrilles she found in the corner of the costume closet, last seen when the class of 1987 put on Picnic.

I can't wait for her to lasso something.

Posted by Jessica at 11:48 AM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink | Comments (0)

July 21, 2004

Fuglie Fugko

If Ben Affleck is the King of this year's Fug Prom -- the Enchantment Under the Fug Dance, if you will -- then Maggie Gyllenhaal is surely the queen. But while Ben wears his crown with regret -- bloated, slightly smelly regret, but regret nevertheless -- Ms. Gyllenhaal wears hers with pride. Which is why she bugs so much; she's turned us, the prom committee or the student body, or whomever it is that votes on Prom Court, into our mothers. "Maggie, get a decent haircut." "Maggie, put on a goddamned bra for once!" "Maggie, my God, wash your face! Denver Carrington is about six minutes away from erecting an oil rig on your forehead!" "Maggie, holy shit, you are not wearing a fucking scrunchie!"

Listen, people. Scrunchies are not ironic. Scrunchies are not attractive. Scrunchies are not, unless you are a Heather, cool. And you, Maggie Gyllenhaal, are no Heather Chandler, so take off that hideous contraption and get on the dance floor for your spotlight dance with Wigfleck. And be gentle; that kid's got nothing left to live for.

Now, Maggie's answer, of course, is that she's not wearing a scrunchie. What looks like a scrunchie in the photo above is really a red "Target" logo. But let's think about this, kids: how long do you think we have before La Gyllenhaal shows up somewhere really wearing a scrunchie? I give her six months. And after that, the deluge.

Posted by Jessica at 07:55 PM in Maggie Gyllenhaal | Permalink | Comments (0)

 

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